


Of Kissing

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Series: On the Joys of Hand Holding and the Woes of Kissing [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: There were many things that Sansa loved about Jaime. Chief among them were his lips.And that was because they bestowed upon her the most delicious of things.His kisses.One shot set in book verse (with references to show verse) after the wars. With Jaime having found Alayne in the Vale and they're now in Winterfell. Together.Left to the reader as to whether they are married or not.Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!Kudos and Comments are love.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark
Series: On the Joys of Hand Holding and the Woes of Kissing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964830
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Of Kissing

There were many things that Sansa loved about Jaime.

Chief among them were his lips. And that was because they bestowed upon her the most delicious of things.

His kisses!

She just couldn't get enough of them!

She wanted all of his kisses, in all their myriad delightful forms.

Sometimes, even before the kiss proper, he would lean in and brush his lips over hers. Just a gentle, slow, barely-there touch. He would stop, pull back for a few seconds and then gift her with one of his meltingly beautiful smiles. Asking silent permission if she wanted him to continue. As if she could ever say no to this wonderous man when he looked at her _just so_! His clear, green, sparkling eyes piercing her. His look, full of intent, of pure want, causing heat to rush straight to her core. She'd smile back, look into his questing eyes and whisper ' _yes_ '.

At times he would slowly build up the anticipation to a kiss. Swiping his nose past hers. Caressing her cheek gently, lovingly. Breathing heavily on her neck, telling her huskily what he would love for them to do together. Whispering, or sometimes almost growling her name depending on how much he needed her right now, or how much time he would take, slowly making their wants come true.

Then there were the actual kisses themselves… She couldn't choose which was her favourite. They were all beautiful, but in different ways...

If he deeply growled her name, his voice laden with desperate need, that meant that he wanted to take her hastily. Either if they were somewhere risky, where an accidental interloper could discover them at any moment. Or if they'd spent the whole day teasing each other, whispering longings past quietly between themselves. Building each other up to a point where each would be desperate for a quick release. His kisses then would be more primal, accompanied by nips on her lips or neck. Nibbles on her nipples to heat their desire, to urge them to a speedy joining and release.

If he whispered her name gently, a languid, adoring note to his voice, that would mean that he wanted to take his time with her. Take his time over pleasing her. A slow burn before their pleasure became more heated. The kisses then would be long and slow, full of love rather than animal desire. He would pause often and kiss along her face, her neck, her breasts and slowly down her gloriously naked body to her core. The kisses there would undo her slowly, teasingly, lovingly. Maybe they had escaped from Winterfell for a few hours, or less often, had a whole day where they had secluded themselves away somewhere private. Then, they could afford to take their time. Spending hours just kissing and touching. Exploring each other's body with lips, tongue and hands. Building themselves up to a slower, more gentle peak.

Good kissing, he believed, included touching as well. Stroking her face, playing with her hair, kneading her breasts, fingering her core and nub. His lips and hands joining together in their delightful mission to bring her pleasure. After all, her pleasure was also his.

Sometimes he would hold her in place gently, wanting to keep full control of their kiss.

Other times he would lie back and let her lips and hands wander and discover him. Letting her pet, stroke and lavish him all over with beautiful little butterfly kisses until he sighed with contentment. Oft times, if he'd had a particularly tough, long or tiring day, he'd specifically ask for her to attend to him this way. Wanting her soft kisses to soothe his troubles and to iron out his worried brow. He would often fall into a happy contented sleep while she kissed him thus. She'd then gently place feather light kisses on his nose, cheeks, forehead, not wanting to wake him, and cuddle up, pulling herself as close as she could into him to fall asleep too. Content that she had caused him this happiness.

Then there were the times when he would pull her close, place his two hands on either side of her face. The kiss then was passionate, full of desire. Telling her that he wanted to make love to her so very much, conveying this to her without the need for words. These kisses would turn her knees to jelly, turn her core to fire. He would have to lift her up, wrapping her legs around his waist so that he supported her when the kisses made her too giddy to support herself. Her heated core meeting his hardness, each grinding each against the other. The kiss heated them up, guided them on. Leading them towards their joint peaks. He would take her then, like that. Plunging deep inside her, not breaking their kiss until they moaned their fulfilment together.

She remembered back to the first time he'd tentatively put his tongue in her mouth. Swiping her lips with his tongue first. Asking permission. Her shock at his first entry turning to exploration, as she let his tongue happily play with hers, touching and bumping hers gently. Then her tongue joined in, playing a merry dance with his.

He'd told her that when he first started with his clumsy attempts to woo her, he would get heated from just watching her bite and nibble her bottom lip. When their relationship had developed into love, her lip nibbles caused his cock to twitch in anticipation of something more. Once they became fully intimate, her nervous tick would remind him of how he loved how her kisses could undo him. He would nip her bottom lip with his teeth playfully, to remind her of how much he enjoyed them, her lips, her kisses. Especially when she kissed him there, on his hard length.

She learnt that he loved when she ran her hands all over his muscular body. Her kisses following along where her hands led. An expression of her love and passion for him. She learned from him how to not simply lie there open mouthed, waiting for him to kiss her, but to be a proactive, albeit shy lover. Her enthusiasm making up for her lack of experience. The experience coming into place as she learnt his body. Learnt what left him begging for more.

She learnt, through his encouragement. Him telling her where he loved her to kiss him. She used her lips to learn his body. Used her lips to learn how to heat him. His nipples were especially sensitive. She would touch them gently, softly. Kiss them and let her tongue run around them. She delighted in learning that her kisses there would make him pant with desire.

He did love to tease her though, once he learned of her addiction to his kisses. He would deliberately pull away mid-kiss, leaving her unfulfilled. In the middle of a kiss, when she was totally lost in him, he would remove his hands, slowly pull away from her face and then pull his lips back so that they were just a few millimeters away. Her continued delight held so near, yet just out of her reach. He would pause for a few seconds and look directly into her eyes, watching her, listening for her ' _please_!'. Only then would he bestow her with one of his most beautiful smiles. And then lean back into her to continue with his kiss. Yes, he would tease her, but never for long.

There was no better feeling than half opening her eyes while they kissed, to find him smiling at her while he kissed her. His smile telling her how happy and content he felt. Knowing that he was content, made her feel so too. His happiness adding to and doubling her own.

Sansa was not good at expressing her feelings aloud. She was getting better though, as was he. Kisses were an easier way for her to let him know how much she wanted him, how much she loved him. And she knew that he did the same. Using the language of kissing to tell her how much he wanted her, how much he loved her when words failed him. Letting his lips and kisses tell her how he lived for her. Her kiss. Her touch. Her love.

They would speak to each other using the language of their kisses.

All of their kisses in all their myriad delightful forms.

**Author's Note:**

> Copied and altered from one of my other stories also here on ao3. So any plagiarism is my own and from me...
> 
> The two characters in that other story are my muses. Everything I've written has been with them first. If they don't like it, it doesn't get written.
> 
> The stories translate very easily into Jaimie/Sansa from Frank/Iris. The political dynamics and settings are obviously different, Iris is not a princess/queen (although to Frank she is).
> 
> But their dynamics are similar - older more experienced, man (but still unsure of himself) and younger, shyer less experienced woman. Both finding their way together along the twists and turns that are RELATIONSHIPS. Also flame coloured hair! ;0)
> 
> Characters are not my own etc etc.


End file.
